...and there arose such a Tempest...

Such storms across Knoxville today, and they were the good kind, with wind and torrents of rain and lightning and thunder. I was at Sam's gleefully being wind-whipped and soaked in the parking lot at the time and LOVING IT. I think I'm the only person I know that adores rain and even more so with the thunder and the lightning. I would understand that if I were one of those personality types that were melancholic, but I'm not. Hmmmmm. (pausing for reflective thought) Moving on.

With storms, come memories and consequentially, stories. If you've ever conversed with me, you know I'm horrid at story-telling. Quips and one-liners:quite brilliant. Stories, not so much; I'll leave that to Daddy and Jim. BUT,this occasion was fun and if you get bored because I have an AOD (attention overload disorder) fit - too bad, you were warned!

A few summers ago I moved back to Knoxville and what a trip that was, in EVERY sense of the word! Susie had flown down from Knox to make the drive back up, John K. and Stacie were making the drive up and flying back. We made a Budget Truck/Escort stop at Pickwick Lake in west Tenn, as it is a good halfway point between Ft.Worth and Knox. We have a place there, so stopping over was a good idea. I ADORE being out on the water, so we took the ski boat out, just for a run on the river. It was a full boat; Jim, Diane, James (who was 6 at the time), John, Susie, Stacie and myself. The sky was starting to swirl in grey, thunder rolled in the distance, (and is it me, or is that phrase uttered in about 37% of all country music?)and the waves started to chop. We had ridden out to the dam, as the locks are always intriguing, and with the storm rising, we were on our way back to the house, when all of a sudden the boat just sputtered up and died. The waves were escalating, we were fortunately drifting (if drifting is the word you can use when the boat is rocking violently back and forth) toward a dock, and yet the rain had started in buckets. The problem with drifting to this particular dock is that it was a horseshoe dock and the outer dock had big barriers that the waves terribly wanted us to crash into. The trick became to jump out of the boat on a down wave and grab hold of ropes, all within about a 10 second period and while staying ON the dock. We managed that, and began the process of marooned pirates saving their ship. Quite a Herculean effort to maneuver the boat into the safety of a covering and the crook of the "h", but we finally managed it.

You think we were done with the fun? Oh, but no!!! In my family, there is no such thing as crisis, merely adventure. We had to find out where we were and call in for "rescuing." (I find it uncomfortable to be rescued, generally tending to take care of things myself) We put in a call to the river patrol, which, in that county is "Mayberry RFD" in boats (with absolute no disrespect to Andy Griffith intended). We had no way to tell them where we were. All my Nancy Drew sleuthing skills came into play as Diane and I and climbed several stories of staircases to the main house. And WHAT a house - wow. Places like that are fairly private and don't have street names per se. I just saved some time, dove into the mailbox, got an address (lets not tell the Feds about that one), made the call. Somewhat later, Goober and Gomer came to pick us all up in the truck, still pouring down rain, so we rode in the truck bed, to the house. I know it's anticlimactic (told you I don't tell stories well), BUT it was a fine adventure and today's storm triggered the memory.

Much like another story about a storm, and a boat. I believe "furious squall" would be a more accurate assessment, but you can read it for yourself if you're so inclined. It's found in the gospel of Mark (any translation will do) Chapter 4, verses 35-42. (In mine, it's on page 780 if that's helpful.) Now THAT'S a good story, and like mine -true.

"Even the wind and the waves obey him!"